


The Traveling Pair

by justherereading



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Derek is a woodman, F/M, Imagine knights/castles/horses/old villages, Life in the mountains, M/M, Magic!Stiles, They are not in California no mo, Time period: nonexistent in our standards, Wizard!Stiles, that's where this story takes place
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1613201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justherereading/pseuds/justherereading
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a poor wizard-in-training living in a cabin and Derek is a traveling woodman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And They Meet

Stiles has always known that mountains had certain magical properties. There was something in the air, the rocks, the trees, and in the pools of water that collected after rain went by. He could always feel a gentle aura that left a fresh feeling in body and mind. Perhaps that’s why the first generation of wizards hailed from the mountains.

Until the age of 14, Stiles lived in Beacon Hills, a small village located in the center of the marshlands. Beacon Hills was surrounded by many mountains of different heights, as the village itself was located on the smallest mountain in the marshlands. The larger mountains nearby surrounded Beacon Hills like a spiral, with the village in the center. That’s where the “hill” came from in the name of Beacon Hills; the village looked like a mere hill compared to the larger counterparts surrounding it.

There wasn’t much for a boy like Stiles to do in the marshlands. Maybe chores, studying, village work, but that was about it. He could get into some fun in the village, but not much trouble since his father was an important figure in the village. Sure he had his best friend Scott around, but he was always busy with his own work with Deaton, the village doctor, and the leftover time with Allison. And in times like those, Stiles grew up reading books, especially on magic. In other times, he enjoyed listening to his father talk about his mother and how they met.

“She was dangling from a tree branch, trying to put a baby bird back in the nest. Claudia was a very brave girl, your mother.”

From father’s stories, Stiles knew there was something special about his mother. From his memories, mother was always smiling, illuminated by a bright aura that defined her. In the damp, usually-gray marshlands, his mother was the main source of light for Stiles and his father. He only found out later that he was the only one who could see her bright aura, as his father was speechless when Stiles once told him years later after mother’s death. He also remembered that her glow had gradually dimmed when she laid sick in bed. That he never told his father.

Couple of days after his Rite of Maturity, Stiles found loose pages that contained information about magic, most of which he had never even read about before. Magic was not a forbidden knowledge in the marshlands, but not many knew how it worked. It was a surprise that such scholarly information was available in the marshlands, but Stiles was more surprised that he had found them in his mother’s desk. When Stiles questioned his father about his discovery, a moment of hesitance clouded his father’s eyes, quickly replaced by a warm, fond look.

“Your mother expected this,” his father spoke softly as he reached for his necklace. That day, Stiles was given more than just a heavy, brass key. The key fit into a lock of a heavy trunk, a mass Stiles had never seen before. The trunk contained his mother’s memories, her lifetime of research, work, and passion. It was something that opened his eyes to a new perspective of things.

That is why five years later, Stiles was living in a small – but sturdy – cabin in the mountains, as a wizard-in-training. His decision to live like this could have been largely due to the fact that his late mother was actually a well-known wizard. And not just any wizard, but the best in her family, the whole family tree included. He had only decided to become the best wizard in his family anyways. 

With rain as a common phenomenon, nights like this made Stiles regret living in the mountains. On rainy nights, which were almost half the nights in a month, water in the near ponds would overflow and flood the trails in front of the cabin. Granted, the trails were slightly angled, and the flood never stayed more than an hour, but in the morning, the trail would be frozen or too muddy for Stiles to step on. That could mean more than two weeks of no visit to the village. His visit to the village had been delayed already due to the light rain couple of days ago, but no one can control the weather. While rain could pour on endlessly, the floor of the cabin, however, was never wet (except for wet shoes) because Stiles’s father was smart enough to have the cabin built on a flat, wide slab of rock that elevated the cabin above any flooding disaster. Stiles was forever thankful for that.

On one particular night, the rain was quite heavy, as the winds blew against the cabin and the trees nearby. Each gust made the cabin creak, along with its fierce howls that escaped the branches of the trees. Stiles couldn’t help but repeatedly trace a shape with his index finger, a little calming trick he learned from his mother. The trick itself wasn’t magic, but it always helped him calm whenever he was on the brink of panic. Weather like this isn’t news to Stiles, but the aura of the air had been feeling strangely lately, a reason why Stiles felt slightly unsure that night.

“All right Stiles, it’s just wind and rain, no reason to panic.” Stiles muttered as he blew his breath into his hands. He then rubbed his hands together in a rapid motion, feeling heat quickly escaping his grasp. While the cabin was well protected from the rain, the cold was a monster that knew how to seep into every crack and hole in the cabin. Even the warmest houses in Beacon Hills were no exception to cold in the winter.

“Well, good thing I know magic.” With a smooth flick of his wrist, the little flame grew fierce in the fire place, gradually bringing warmth back into the cabin. No matter how much magic he used every day, Stiles never got sick of it, even during practice. Magic just got cooler every time. But even with the crackling fire, there was still a coldness Stiles could feel on the inside, and he knew that he needed something warm to drink.

After hanging the teapot over the fire, Stiles sat at the table and continued reading his current book _The Elemental Categories of Magic_. It was one of the books his mother had mentioned in her journals; in the beginning, Stiles had decided to spend his spare time reading what his mother had wrote and read, but at the end, everything he did became involved with magic. It seemed that his mother already knew that Stiles had a gift for magic, seeing that she even left notes to him in some pages of her journals.

When Stiles found out about his mother’s brilliant secrets, Stiles felt only betrayed because he never got to see his mother perform magic in front of him. But then those petty emotions soon turned into something proud, as he was pleased that his mother was a wizard. And a great one she was.

Stiles’s thoughts were then interrupted by a loud thud, to which his head responded with a sharp turn towards the window. With an alerted look, Stiles sat deadly quiet in his seat, not even letting the sound of his breathing reach his ears. When another loud thud emanated outside the cabin, Stiles flicked his wrist once more to lower the fire and reached for the blunt wooden mass under his bed. From time to time in the mountains, Stiles would hear certain noises made by nature, such as branches snapping, rocks falling, or even animals stalking, but that loud noise, he had never heard before.

Stiles peeked through the shutters of the window, but much to his dismay, nothing could be seen through the pouring rain. _Of course I can_ _’_ _t see through the rain_. In the moment of silence, all Stiles could do was wipe away the cold sweat and grip his club tighter. The silence was soon cut with three harsh knocks, more like pounds, on the door. At that moment, Stiles stood flat against the wall with wide eyes and a hand over his left chest. When the door rattled with three more pounds, Stiles dashed to the door and placed his hand on the handle.

Counting one, two, three in his head, Stiles raised the club above his head and opened the door in a violent frenzy. He then let out a yell that sounded more like a squawk. Instead of bears, wolves, or anything hairy and big, a tall, cloaked figure stood in front of him. Stiles stood frozen at the presence of a cloaked figure and let out a weak “Ahh.”

“That was embarrassing.” Stiles muttered as he lowered his club. The figure stood motionless, only the infinitesimal rise and fall of his shoulders could be seen. From the outline of the cloak, Stiles could tell that the figure had some mass on him, suggested by the broad width of the shoulders. Although the identity of the figure remained hidden under the cloak, Stiles could feel that there was nothing heinous about the aura of the stranger. Not knowing what to do, Stiles ran a hand over his hair, a persistent habit of his.

“Um. Uh, may I help you?” Stiles frowned with uncertainty. The figure lifted his head only slightly, revealing nothing but the dark scruff and lips. The lips then moved minimally, producing a clear, soft, but tired voice.

“Can you spare some space for the night?”

“Uh, I only have one bed.” Stiles nervously picked on the door.

“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

“I mean, you could sleep on the floor, but really, do you want the chance of having back problems later in life?”

Then without a word, the figure walked away with one swift turn.

“No, no! You can stay. I don’t want to be responsible for anyone’s death tonight.” The cloaked figure halted in the rain, with his back facing the cabin. 

“I insist. It gets really rough around here in the nights like these.” Stiles then stepped aside. After few seconds, without another word, the stranger marched back, and this time, into the cabin.

“Hopefully I didn’t let an axe murderer into my house.” Letting out an awkward laugh, Stiles closed the door. The figure stood silently in the center of the cabin, slowly scanning the room. He then untied the sac from his back and placed it on the floor.

“So, uh, as you can see, it’s not much space, but I had about 5 people fit in here before, so it’s not a problem for two peo…” Stiles trailed off as his eyes landed on an object peeking out of the sac: an axe. _Shit._

“Uh, um, the axe-”

“I do a lot of woodwork.” The stranger cut off Stiles before it could get any more painful for Stiles.

“Ah. Right. A traveling woodsman.” Stiles walked towards the fireplace, hiding his face from embarrassment. He wiped his hand on his clothes, scrunching his face in the pain of his awkwardness and stupidity. Not a sound could be heard in the cabin, except for the rain and the water dripping from the stranger’s cloak. Stiles looked towards where the man was standing, and there was definitely a puddle forming. Stiles’s embarrassment slowly transformed into a mild annoyance.

“I would appreciate it if you’d take off your cloak, since it’s dripping wet.” Stiles crossed his arms, pointing at the cloak. The stranger began to untie his cloak, as Stiles muttered “the damn floor is wet” under his breath. Looking for a spot to put the wet cloak, Stiles landed his eyes on the open book. He quickly scurried to the table and shoved the book under the sheets on his bed. _So smooth, Stilinski._

The fact is that magic is not forbidden, but having such knowledge is well-frowned upon by some groups of people. “Prevention of Magic and All There Is” is what the group is called. Some people just didn’t understand the beauty of magic. Stiles had to make sure that he wouldn’t offend anyone with his books, as he had heard violent aftermaths of wizards who revealed their knowledge to those who weren’t so fond of magic. While there were people firm on their negative opinions about magic, there were also people who were afraid of magic. Stiles knew that fear usually led to violent actions and consequences.  

“Where do you want me to put it?” The voice snapped Stiles back into reality, into his cabin. Instead of the cloaked stranger, a rough-looking man was standing in place. His hair was dark as charcoals in the fireplace, his nose well-defined like an arrowhead, and his eyes, they were the color of leaves seen in summer and autumn. This man, _this man_ was incredibly beautiful, only with his features dulled by the rain and dirt. The only thing clear about the stranger was those piercing, beautiful eyes, full of scorn and misunderstood hatred. Stiles stood speechless on the spot, unable to close his mouth. When the stranger quirked his eyebrows, Stiles quickly covered his mouth and rested his other hand on his hips.

“Oh, you can put that on the hook by the door,” said Stiles, but quickly added “maybe after squeezing the water out of it, if you don’t mind.” With a curt nod, the stranger proceeded to twist the cloak outside the window, resulting in a rush of water that splashed into the ground. It sounded as if a small pond had already formed outside the cabin. The cloak was then left hanging.

“Sorry, it’s just that I haven’t…seen…a person in a while.” Stiles sniffed as he lowered his gaze to the floor. It was getting more painfully awkward. Even the pitter-patter of the rain did not help fill the silence that choked Stiles uncomfortably around his neck. When Stiles finally noticed that the stranger remained standing, he waved his hands to get the stranger’s attention.

“You can sit anywhere, if you want. Chair, floor, table, well, not on the table, unless you like that kind of stuff – but you know what I mean.” Stiles stopped himself before letting it go beyond embarrassing. Holding his lips together with his fingers seemed to be the best thing to do for Stiles at the moment. Fortunately for Stiles, the stranger ignored what he said and sat at the table. Unfortunately for Stiles, he was ignored.

“So, uh, I’m Stiles. Just thought it would be appropriate to be on a name-to-name basis, since we’re gonna be sharing a cabin for the night.” The stranger slowly dragged his eyes to Stiles with a look of indifference. Just when Stiles thought he was going to be ignored, the stranger replied.

“Derek.”  

“What?”

“That’s my name. Derek.”

“Oh. I see. I’m Stiles, but…I said that already.” _Get a grip._ The sudden uncovering of Mr. Handsome Face put Stiles out of his pace and left him awkward and stammering like an aroused teenager. When a shiver radiated throughout his body, Stiles remembered that he had dulled the fire. Thankfully, the water in the teapot was still hot, as the steam slowly curled up from the mouth of the teapot into the air.

“So, do you just hike in the mountains with an axe in your sac or are you a lost nomad?” Stiles asked while pouring water into two cups. With a look of uncertainty, Derek stared at Stiles. To that, Stiles rolled his eyes.  

“It’s just a question, since it’s getting too damn awkward in here,” said Stiles, taking a seat opposite to Derek. Two cups settled on the table, one for Stiles, and the other for Derek.

“I don’t really stay in one place for too long, since not many people need a logger for an extended time.”

“Ah. So it’s just logging? Nothing else?” Stiles tapped his fingers on the table. Derek’s eyes moved back and forth between Stiles and his hands, his annoyance growing and becoming evident.

“Anything else that pays off, I also do.” Derek frowned. A silence filled the room.

“Like what?” His taps on the table became louder and more obnoxious. 

“Lifting, hunting animals, just, anything. That. Pays. Off.” Derek put an intense glare that had Stiles fold his hands together.

“Sorry. Just curious.” All was quiet in the room, with only sipping and slurping sounds coming from Stiles. Derek closed his eyes, letting out a deep exhale.

“So, you lift stuff, huh?”

“Yes, Stiles, I lift stuff.” Stiles mentally took a step back as he saw and heard his name coming from the stranger’s mouth. When Derek noticed Stiles’s momentary halt, he leaned back into the chair, putting a distance between Stiles and him.

“Uh, what kind of stuff?” Stiles made sure to ask slowly and carefully. Derek only glared back with his arms on the table.

“Heavy material. Some things that a person usually can’t lift alone.” His response came out in a dull, dragging tone.

“So I’m imagining you chopping a tree down, and dragging it whole to a nearby village. Is that accurate enough?” Stiles waved his hands around to depict his imagination. Derek sat in silence, staring at Stiles with a judgmental frown. In response, Stiles raised his eyebrows.

“Pretty much,” replied Derek with a hint of defeat in his voice.

“Whoa. That’s some hardcore lifting. I would think that that sort of strength would attract a lot of attention from people.”

“It did. Everyone thought I was using magic.” To Derek’s thoughtless reply, Stiles felt cold sweat running down his back.

“I bet it scared a lot of people.” Perhaps it was Stiles’s awkward tone, but something about his comment made Derek frown.

“Sometimes they were the reason why I had to move to another village.” Derek nodded.

“I see, that sucks,” Stiles took a pause, “uh, wha-what’s your view on magic?” Stiles asked in a very calm manner, as he gathered his hands together.

“I don’t have any.” Derek responded with an uncaring tone.

“What about people dealing with magic?” Stiles insisted.

“I don’t have any.” Derek looked up with a slightly annoyed look.

“Well, let’s say that hypothetically–”

“If you’re wondering whether or not I hate magic, the answer is no, I don’t hate magic. I also don’t care that you’re a magic user.” Derek placed his hand on the table with a light thud, shaking the cups in the process.

“R-really? Oh my Merlin, I thought, whew. That–that’s great. I really didn’t want an axe-wielding, load-lifting logger as a magic-hater. That would have been a nightmare on my part.” Stiles widened his eyes in relief, and in terror in the thought of Derek being a magic-hater. He could have gotten murdered in his own cabin. And he let the man in too.  

“It’s already a nightmare for me,” muttered Derek as he finished the last drop of his tea.

“Really? I thought we declared to be best buddies. Just trying to make conversation. Don’t have to be so sour about it.” Stiles scrunched his face.

“Look, I only plan to avoid the rain for the night and leave in the morning. So ‘til then, I don’t want to be disturbed.”

 “My cabin. I get to do whatever I want, buddy.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows in joking manner. Derek scowled, but sighed in defeat.

“And I see that you’re a capable, strapping lad, but trust me, weather like this makes the trail brutal during the day. I’m sure slipping and breaking your neck isn’t exactly in your agenda.” Stiles nodded with knowing eyes.

“I’ll manage,” said Derek with a dull look.

“Where’re you headed to anyway?”

“Don’t want to say.” Derek shrugged slightly.

“Okay, well, do you know how to get there?” Stiles stretched his hand out, seemingly annoyed by Derek’s indifference.

"Yes, I know how to get there." Derek snapped. Stiles finally did as Derek wished and retreated with his palms up. _Only for the evening_ , Stiles spat in his head. While Derek stared into the fireplace, Stiles reached for the book under the sheets. If no one was going to talk, he might as well catch up on his reading.

As his eyes skimmed over paragraph by paragraph, Stiles felt the cold creeping up on him. For every two sentences that trickled into his mind, a shiver shook the center of his body. One after the next, the shivers became stronger until he couldn’t handle it anymore. With a quick flick of his wrist, he brought life in the fireplace, as the flame roared with vigor and frenzy. And in front of Stiles, Derek sat frozen in his seat, clearly taken aback by the sudden rise in the fireplace. When Stiles noticed a change of aura around Derek, he slowly dragged his gaze towards Derek.     

“Hey, you alright? Was that too much?” Stiles slowly fiddled with the corner of the pages, as he kept his expressions calm and his eyes on Derek. While his face looked stern and somewhat composed, Derek’s shoulders were stiff, his body radiating a sense of distress.

“I’m fine. I just wasn’t ready for it.” Derek let his shoulders sag, but his gaze was mixed with alert and distrust.

“Sorry. I guess I should’ve given you a heads up.” Stiles scratched at his hand.

“I said I’m fine,” said Derek with unnecessary force in his voice. Stiles didn’t expect such a reply, although the stranger had been quite moody and curt. Sure Stiles could have replied back with a snappy comment, but when he saw the grim light in Derek’s eyes, he closed his mouth. And it stayed closed. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fic! A Sterek fic too! Hopefully you guys can enjoy reading this as much as I struggled to write it and piece it together. I'm not quite done with it yet, therefore, I am not sure how frequently I will be uploading the chapters. However it goes, enjoy this thang.


	2. Some things happen

Stiles woke up with an unusually uncomfortable feeling in his chest, greeting the morning with no pleasantness at all. The air was cold and damp because of the heavy rain of the night before, but at least it stopped by the morning. Stiles numbly scratched at his stomach, clearly confused by the unfamiliar feeling in his chest. Not too familiar, as he had only felt it once before, exactly when his mother died.

Stiles sat in his bed, still groggy and half-awake. Just when he was about to wonder about the burn in his chest, Stiles’s eyes landed on a man lying on the floor, with the back facing him. Stiles’s reaction would have been hilarious for anyone else to see, but he had forgotten about Derek, the woodman. For all he knew, it could have been a dead body. When Stiles remembered the uninvited visitor from the night before, he exhaled quietly with a hand over his thumping chest. 

“It’s too early for this shit.” Stiles muttered.

But really, Stiles did wake up earlier than usual, as the lack of sun proved it so. With much effort, Stiles got off his bed and dragged himself to the window. The sky was almost at the break of dawn, but the clouds made the day look much darker.

With his hands around his arms, Stiles flicked his wrist towards the fireplace. With several loud crackles and pops, the life was brought back into the fireplace, instantly warming the room. From the corner of his eye, Stiles saw a sudden movement on the ground, one made by Derek. With his cloak clutched tight to his chest, Derek was sitting on the ground, legs bent and back slightly hunched. Unlike the guarded expression that Derek showed the night before, his face was intertwined with alarm and confusion. Stiles stood there fixed, not knowing what to do. When Derek’s eyes landed on Stiles, all signs of vulnerability were wiped off and replaced with an annoyed frown.

“Could you please stop that? At least until I’m gone?” Derek snapped, as he placed his hand over his face, only to scrub it down in exasperation.

“Ye-” Stiles cleared his throat, “yeah, sorry, it’s a habit.” Stiles sniffed apologetically. Only the crackling of the fire accompanied the long silence that flew by. Derek was the first one to break the silence.

“Do you always wake up this early?” Derek asked in a slow, uninterested tone. Stiles stared until Derek looked up with a blank look. His eyes seemed apologetic.

“No, not really. I just woke up because…today’s a weird day.” Stiles rubbed his palm over his chest, feeling the strange discomfort gradually turn into a dull ache. While Derek remained voiceless, the way Derek stared at his own hands showed that he had something to say, but Stiles did not pry. Instead, Stiles walked over to the fireplace and placed a pot over the fire. After filling the pot with water, Stiles threw in couple of small potatoes to cook.

“Hope you like potatoes. It’s all I have.” When the potatoes were thoroughly cooked, Stiles picked them into a plate and set it on the table. For a while, Stiles and Derek ate in silence. When Stiles finished his first potato, the dawn had passed and the morning came. With the overcast weather, the sky could only be bright as a dull gray rock.

“Uh, well, I know that you didn’t want to say where you’re going, but since you spent the night here, I’ll take that as a payment.” When Derek looked up with a deeply unimpressed look, Stiles retorted back by raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know why this is so important to you,” Derek sighed, “but I’m headed towards Beacon Hills.”

“Beacon Hills? That’s where I’m from.”

“Where you’re from?” Derek frowned deeply.

“Yup. Born and raised.” Stiles idly tapped his fingers on the table. To Stiles’s response, Derek’s frown grew deeper and confusion began to cloud his eyes. Then in sudden realization, Derek’s head snapped towards Stiles with his eyes wide and roused.

“You’re–” His words were interrupted by a sound akin to thunder. A very near, loud thunder. At the same time, Stiles felt a sharp pain shoot though his chest. Without knowing the cause of the pain, Stiles only gasped and clutched his left chest. By the time Derek became alert to Stiles’s pain, the ground shook violently, accompanied by a loud thud that can only be described as the sound of a crack forming in the sky. For Stiles, the pain only became sharper and intensified, resulting with Stiles sinking to his feet and letting out a tormented shout. The short-lived earthquake toppled over just about everything in the cabin. The pot spilled over the fire, books landed haphazardly on the floor, and the walls of the cabin were damaged with cracks. Stiles had landed face down on the floor with his hands over his chest as Derek landed in a low crouch.  

The pain that crippled Stiles was gone as if it was never there. While Derek kept his distance, his eyes couldn’t help but show slight concern and bewilderment.

“What. The. Hell. Was. That.” Stiles words came out as a muffle.

When Stiles rushed out of the cabin with Derek behind him, he saw that everything outside seemed normal and even the gray skies looked peaceful. Stiles immediately felt a rise of discontent, as the pain and the noises had to happen for some reason. With his patience running out, Stiles turned sharply towards Derek.

“Did I imagine all that? The noises and the pain? Because if I imagined those for no reason, I’m going to be a little more than upset.” Stiles rotated his hands multiple times with frenzy.

“The noises, I’ve heard too, but I don’t know about the pain.” Derek replied with uncertainty.

“So the pain was only me.” Stiles muttered to himself. Locked in thought, Stiles rubbed his feet in the mud, testing the slipperiness of the ground.  Then Stiles noticed something, something different about the mountain.

“The energy is draining.” Stiles looked into the woods, the horizon, and the ground overall. He couldn’t feel any energy flowing back and forth, but draining towards a certain direction down the trail. Without a word, Stiles ran down the trail. Derek was left behind for a brief moment, but he caught up to Stiles with no difficulty. At the downhill part of the trail, Stiles came to an immediate halt and slipped. Derek managed to keep his balance and somewhat caught Stiles before he could land on the muddy ground. And in front of them, a fallen tree towered over them, almost 15 feet high.

“Oh no no no no. This is a nightmare. This is _definitely_ a nightmare.” Stiles rose to his feet and grasped his hair in frustration.  

“It’s blocking the path.” Derek muttered in realization. 

“Block –blocking the path? This is more than just blocking the path! You have no idea how important that tree is.”

“What, it was five hundred years old?” Derek rolled his eyes.

“Over a thousand to be exact.” Stiles snapped.

“So what about the tree?” Derek asked with a monotonous tone.

“This tree,” Stiles pointed at the fallen wood, “is pretty much the big chunk of energy source for this mountain. I don’t know what’s going to happen to the mountain now.” Stiles crossed his arms in desperation, only to undo them.

“That’s why I felt the pain. The tree was warning me about the fall.” Stiles muttered to himself again.

“Is the tree that important?” Derek observed the tree with a look of speculation.

Ignoring Derek's question, Stiles went on a rant. “I didn’t think that this tree could even fall down. It has the width of seven oak trees put together!”

“If you’re worried about it so much, why don’t you lift it back up with your,” Derek waved his hand with exaggerated flicks of his wrist. Stiles squinted his eyes with a slightly open mouth, undoubtedly offended by Derek’s motion. At Stile’s judgmental looks, Derek only raised his eyebrows.

“Seriously? First of all, I’m a wizard-in-training,” Stiles pushed a finger back, “second, lifting objects is a completely different genre compared to the elemental magic I’m studying,” Stiles pushed another finger, “third, that’s a big tree,” Stiles had counted three fingers. 

“And lastly, I do not wave my hand like that.” At each word, Stiles fiercely flapped his hand in front of Derek’s face.

“Well I can’t lift this either.” Derek clenched his teeth.

“Oh I thought you were the guy who can lift things that one man can’t lift.” Stiles air-quoted his words with a sarcastic attitude.

“That tree is obviously beyond my strength.” Derek pointed at the tree.

“Okay, I know that we’ve been saying ‘that tree, this tree,’ but it has a name.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“What’s the name?”

“The Great Oak.” Stiles opened his palm and lifted his eyebrows as if Derek was stupid.

“The Great Oak.” Derek deadpanned.

“Yeah, it’s great, it’s an oak! What needs to be more to it?”

“It’s a terrible name.”

“You’re just saying that because I named it.” Stiles squinted his eyes, filled with judgment. When Derek said nothing, Stiles approached the tree with an important question in mind.

“How did the Great Oak even fall down?” Stiles whispered to himself as he reached out to the barks of the giant tree. Walking down along the fallen tree, Stiles felt for any signs of damage, whether physical or magical. Besides some cracks on where the tree meets the ground, nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. Even the storm from last night could not have been the cause for the fall. When there was nothing else to see, Stiles headed up towards a higher ground where the woods began. The Great Oak had covered about five feet of dirt above the ground, and its fall revealed roots of other trees. Stiles grabbed the roots to climb up.

From the top, the base of the tree was still larger than his cabin, and Stiles still couldn’t see the top side of the Great Oak. At this point, there was only one thing to do. With strict concentration, Stiles slowly reached his hand out and dragged his fingers towards him, palm up. With a slight pang in his chest, the great wood creaked and one of its roots lowered and stretched towards Stiles. The roots were quite large and sturdy like a stone, and caused no problem for Stiles to walk on.  

When Stiles stood on the fallen tree, he saw the side where he and Derek were standing remained undamaged while the side to the right of the tree was pretty much a death trap. The fall of the tree dug a large trench into the muddy, wet ground, and made it impossible for anything to walk on or climb over. The muddy waters in the trench also didn’t help, as there was no way of knowing how deep it was. Beyond the trench, the trail was replaced by a cliff with an unclean drop.

 “Ah damn it.” Stiles scratched the back of his neck and frowned. Derek wasted no moment and climbed up the tree without effort. Stiles opened his palms in frustration, but he knew to accept the fact that Derek the stranger was just more than a woodman. He is a mountain man, capable of any difficult feat. When Derek looked over towards the trench, he huffed a sigh.

 “I know right? This way is done for. The trench is completely covering the way and just ruined the whole damn trail.” When Derek glared at the trench, Stiles raised his palms in defeat and continued towards the branches of the tree. Except that there was a deep, jagged dent stopping his way. A dent shaped like a man. A dent filled with a distinctively depressing aura. Derek.

“Hey, why don’t you step in here?” Stiles slowly turned towards Derek, his voice passive-aggressive. Derek looked at Stiles with full-on anger, but when his eyes landed on the dent, his eyes slowly widened. All of his anger disappeared, only to be placed with knowing look.

“Because I don’t know, that dent looks a lot like your body shape. I mean I don’t know how you could even make a dent like that, but then again, magic’s real, right?”  If Derek could see auras, he would see smoke coming off of Stiles’s head.

“I don’t know how that got there. I didn’t even know that I ran into a tree.” Derek observed the dent closely, more impressed with the dent rather than feeling sorry for what he has done.

“Really? That loud thud from last night was you bumping into the Great Oak? More like desecrating it?” Stiles pointed at the dent with his whole hand, feeling the anger boiling inside him. It just was not his day. First, he woke up to some strange pain, soon greeted by a semi-earthquake, along with a mind-blowingly painful heartache, and now the Great Oak was pretty much dead. Stiles disheveled his hair in irritation.

“Well, you’ve done a great job for a woodman. More like a true tree murderer at this point. I think you literally ruined my life in the mountain.” Stiles shook his head as Derek rolled his eyes.

“What’s so important about this tree anyway?”  

“What so important about this–” Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose, “let me put it this way, mountain man," as Derek frowned at the word, "If Excalibur is _the_ sword, then the Great Oak is _the_ tree.” When Derek didn’t look too convinced, Stiles let out a huff of air.

“This tree here, this tree, is what connects all life sources together in and around this mountain. Well, it’s not the life source itself, since every living being has its own life source in them, but the Great Oak is more like a, like a trade merchant.” Stiles moved his hands for an attempt in explanation. When Derek gave him a strange look, Stiles groaned.

“Trade merchant?” Derek lifted his eyebrow.

“It’s hard to explain to people who don’t know too much about magic. What I mean is, well, okay, everything in this world has a certain life inside them. In order to keep that balance of life, living things and still things exchange, er, their energy.” Even Stiles looked unsure of his explanation.

“Exchange energy?”

“Like how fire gives off warmth and how the clouds bring the rain. All of that, in a way, is a method of rotating every life energy there is. One way of humans exchanging energy is by, um, laughing together, getting sad together. That’s why people become happy when others are happy, and sad if others are sad.”

“Empathy. Empathy is a way of how humans exchange energy?” Derek looked at Stiles as if he was crazy.

“One of the few energies, yeah. There are more energies. Anyway, in smaller mountains, even though there are countless life living in its soil, the energy exchange isn’t as complicated. But this mountain is very special. I found out that there are chains of mountains and hills that are connected together to end up here, in this mountain. This mountain is the center of life and energy for who knows how far. And since there are so many sources of life connected in a chain, they have a hard time exchanging energy with each other. That is why this mountain had the Great Oak. It was the energy trade merchant for the mountain.” After the wordy explanation, Stiles exhaled loudly.

“Either way, that’s not the main concern right now. How the hell do you get down the mountain?”

“I don’t know. The Great Oak is actually my main concern right now.” Stiles snapped as he ran a hand through his hair, only to pull it in exasperation. Derek and Stiles stood in silence, each experiencing different emotions, but both in desperation.

“Is there another way?” Derek exhaled heavily.

“This mountain is called the Lonesome Mountain. What do you think?” Stiles replied in a bitter tone.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything? There has to be another way.” Derek gritted his teeth. Without a response, Stiles stared at the ground.

“You would have to go around the other way. Go up the mountain.” With a fist on his hip, Stiles scrubbed his hand across his face. 

“And it’s going to go down at some point?” To Derek’s question, Stiles nodded.

“How long is it going to take?”

“I’ve never been that way, but I would think about two weeks to Beacon Hills.”

“Two weeks?” Derek shouted with incredulity. His voice reverberated throughout the forest, scaring the birds far away into flight, and making Stiles jump ever so slightly.

“Hey, the trail down this way would take two days to reach the bottom, and another couple of days to reach Beacon Hills. But going back up, it’s going to be a whole circle around this mountain, and the other mountains and hills surrounding the village.” Stiles frowned slightly.

“Are there any other short cuts at all? Even though the woods?”

“Through the woods going up would still take over a week, and going down, there’s a steep drop, so no chances.”

Derek brooded in silence, with his eyes constantly moving. It seemed that Derek was trying to figure out a plan in his mind, but Stiles knew the mountain better than Derek. There was no other short way around. 

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask.

“It’s none of your business.” Derek snapped again, putting an end of Stiles’s patience.

“Hi, excuse you, I don’t know what your problem is, but you basically stomped on my little mountain life in one night, so I think that I’m the only one who gets to be mad in this situation.” When Stiles raised his voice, Derek looked back with a frightening glare, but Stiles did not crumble. He had a definite reason to be mad. Sure, Stiles wasn’t mad at first, but when he finally processed the disaster in his head, he realized that his life in the mountains no longer served a purpose. The energy itself was draining from the mountains, the trail was destroyed, and the cabin was good as broken sticks on rocks.

“Sorry.” Derek lowered his gaze and grumbled.

“I’m sorry, what?” Stiles mockingly put a hand to his ear.

“Sorry.” Derek stated clearly.

“Yeah, ‘sorry’ cuts it.” Stiles sat on a stump nearby.

 §

“Why not?” Stiles crossed his arms in irritation.

“Because I don’t need a companion. It’ll be just an extra load on my shoulders. I have enough to carry.” After sitting at a stump for some time, the best idea Stiles could come up with was to leave with Derek, which Derek obviously disagreed to.

“Who said I need one? We just happen to be going the same way, since that is literally the only way. I’m not a burden either.”

“I meant extra load as in slowing me down. I don’t even have the luxury of spending two weeks in the mountain. With you, I know it’ll end up being longer than two weeks.”

“You know, the more I talk with you, the more I see your charms.” Stiles nodded a frown.

“And I find your sarcasm very attractive.” Derek crumpled his eyes, making quite the sour face.

“Think about it. I know these mountains better than you do. Much better. What would be the downside to this, really?” Stiles talked with gravity, intending to convince Derek no matter what. When Derek showed hesitation, Stiles added on.

“Look, I can find my own food, shelter, fight my way out of trouble, and, since I’m so nice, I’ll be your personal map. Huh? Huh?” Stiles smiled brightly, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You can fight your way out of trouble? With that physique?” Derek questioned doubtfully.

“Seriously? Did you miss the ‘your personal map’ part? I’m the valuable resource here, whether you like it or not.” Stiles pointed his hands to himself confidently.

“All right, all right! Just...” Derek trailed off, with his hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just what?”

“Just when something happens, you do as I say, no questions asked.”

“Okay, sure, I guess. Stiles waved his hand nonchalantly.  

“No, not I guess, I need a definite answer.” Derek held Stiles’s gaze with a stern look.

“Wha–urghmm. Yes.” Stiles rolled his eyes. 

“Pack up your things. I’m leaving before the sun reaches the top of that tree.”

“Yes, milord.” With a mocking curtsy, Stiles jogged back to the cabin.

There wasn’t much for Stiles to take, as everything was ruined by the combination of rainwater and wood chips that created a gross blobby mess. All of the effort through the years trying to maintain the place dry came to an end. Even some of mother’s favorite books were ruined, but really, Stiles couldn’t possibly carry all by himself to the village anyways. In all honestly, Stiles read all the books already, and the magical information remained deeply engraved in his head.

So all Stiles had in his sac was _The Elemental Categories of Magic_ , some left over potatoes, small pot, and some clothing that was able to avoid the wet mess. Lastly, Stiles unhooked a dull red cloak from the wall and tied it around his neck. His mother’s cloak always brought him comfort and good luck. While Derek said that he didn’t need any companions, he waited for Stiles by the door, deep in thought.

“Alright mountain man. Let’s go.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I suck. It took a whole month for me to upload another chapter, and seriously, as a reader who doesn't read WIPs, it must be a pain. But really, I never knew it was THIS hard to progress/finish a written work, and holy hell it's hard. I'm writing my way through this thing, hoping that it'll flow naturally, but really, I'm hoping. You'll run into some grammatical errors, stupid ones, probably. Hell, maybe when I finish this, I'll go back and fix them *laughs with a single tear flowing* But for those reading this work, thanks a lot! Like I said, it's my first fic, so my writing skills are a bit rusty, and I'll try my best to make it flow naturally. Because really, when I joined Archive, I've never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would be uploading a work!
> 
> Hi all, it's been a while since I updated the fic, and honestly, I'm stuck at a certain part in the plot. And while there's not many of you looking forward to the chapter or whatnot, I gotta hit the hiatus with this one for now. I'm sure one day I'll think of a brilliant way to keep the plot going, but it's buried in my head somewhere.


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